


...and all the stars in the sky

by clandestineClairvoyant



Series: Misdirection-verse (Or the great Harry Dresden stress relief adventure) [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition, The Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: Crossover, and if i want to read them i have to write them beCAUSE THE INTERNET LETS ME DOWN, dorian's a necromancer and also studies time magic and also everything else bad, god listen all i do all day is think of crossovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2015-11-13
Packaged: 2018-04-23 16:15:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4883428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clandestineClairvoyant/pseuds/clandestineClairvoyant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Dresden get's lost somewhere in between fighting evil necromancers and taking a nasty hit to the head, and wakes up to find himself having more to do with religion than he <i>ever wanted</i>, missing his dog, trying not to get his head cut off, and finding that there's more in heaven and Earth, Horatio- Namely, more than Earth.</p><p> At least he's still got his boots.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Did you guys know that all the good verses from the Chant of Light are already used for mission names in the game??? 
> 
> I was reading a bunch of Modern day thedas AU's, and thought, _this is great and all, but you know what would be even funnier than this?_ Modern day Thedas AU where you just literally drop the characters from the game, pikes and horses and castles and all, right in modern day. And it somehow turned into Chicago. And how does Harry Dresden NOT show up?  
>  And I got about 12k into that, before I realized it was waaaay too hard to write, especially considering how many characters I had going. So instead, you get the opposite- Harry dresden in Thedas.
> 
> If anyone knows me at all they know all I do is think of crossovers, because it's my guilty pleasure. I thought about keeping this as subjective as possible in case people who haven't read the Dresden Files are lost, and I tried my best.  
> This takes place sometime after Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts for Inquisition, where most fics seem to take place I notice, and sometimes after Dead Beat for the Dresden Files. (I can't recall if Lasciel is too antagonistic at this moment, but I'm leaving her out of this for reasons. Just assume she's dormant if you want.)

*****************************

 

I woke up in church.

 

Problem one with this scenario, which I realized as soon as I peeled my crusted eyes apart, was that I was in _a church._ And I wasn’t in spontaneous flames. Or feeling like maybe my head was going to screw itself 360 degrees. My relationship with any god was a nebulous one, and I was of the school of thought that I might _not_ be struck by lightning as soon as I walked in- But why take the chance?

My head throbbed as soon as I could make out the dim light from what I guessed to be torches. The pain was made even worse when I groaned, the sound practically vibrating my teeth and skull. There was a brief flicker of motion out of the corner of my eye, almost pastel, but I put it down to neurological damage from a blinding headache, and ignored it so I could roll painfully over to one side.

The second problem with this scenario, was I was all by myself. A very big problem, when you’re used to having at least a modicum of backup. Especially if you were someone with as many enemies as me.  
Waking up in a strange place by myself was concerning, and growing more concerning by the moment, but for once this was not at the top of my list of things to freak out about.  
What _was_ alarming, was the fact that as I staggered to my feet, coat tangled in my legs and eyes almost glued shut with dried blood and god knew what else, was the flagstones and tapestries that met my eyes. Red, with faded yellow suns.

There were rough pews scattered and splintered around the atrium, as if a giant hand had swept them aside, half of the torches rolled out of their sconces and scattered on the ground. It looked like someone had left in a violent rush, and hadn’t come back in a few generations.

But it looked like it had been beautiful, once, with the dim light coming in through the partly boarded up windows. It looked like once upon a time the windows had shined down on the pulpit, where a sad podium was lying on its side, book long since taken or rotted away. They were stained, probably. Hard to tell, with the sun coming in so orange and all of the dust hanging in the air. It was cloying, and I coughed. It echoed emptily, and I winced at the pressure it put on my head.

 

“Hello?”

 

A faint rustling in the eaves. Birds nesting, or bats stirring from sleep. Nothing.

 

Nothing but the sounds of the outdoors; Birds chirping, the chucking of some kind of squirrel or chipmunk. Not too many insects, but I figured that from the brisk chill I could feel along the bottom edge of my t-shirt, where it was caught up in my coat.

I found my staff not far, a foot or two away, all in one piece. But when I tried to think back on how I could have let go of it, my mind drew up a blank.

Some dizzy, disconnected images of green light, Mavra behind a shimmering forcefield of magic and laughing her hoarse, desiccated chuckle- I’d had my staff, and Carlos Ramirez was right behind me, yelling something, his hair being whipped into his face by the air all being clapped out of the room in an explosion-

I couldn’t remember much else. But my keen detective sense were telling me that the blood dried in my hair and on my face, as well as the pain and vomit coming up my throat, meant I was the happy owner of a concussion. Again.

 

My staff propped me up as I made a further mess of the abandoned church, insides raw and my head spinning. It felt like I’d been through the literal wringer, skin taut and dry and flinching at every noise and draft of air. I was also parched and starving, and the effort of throwing up seemed to tear my throat up to shreds.

“Alright Dresden.” I panted, wiping my mouth on my sleeve, and grimacing at the feel of grit and dust. This place was filthy, and I must’ve been out for a while. I was _coated._ “Not Chicago. Think.”

I took stock of what I had. My staff; five and a half feet of polished head-knocking wood. The .44 magnum, in my under-the-coat holster. Two spare rattling boxes of ammo, about 34 rounds. The rings on my fingers, three total, each one juicing up and ready to go. They gathered kinetic energy every time I moved my hands or arms, and the last time I’d used it was... Two hours ago?

I felt a bit of vertigo the more I tried to remember, and settled for deciding I had maybe a good baseball bat to the face left, judging by the feel of them humming on my fingers. Good enough for a last nasty surprise if I found myself fighting my way out.  
My shield bracelet rounded out my arsenal, making me armed for just about anything. 

Including a raid on Mavra’s little clubhouse of horrors.

 

Beyond the weapons, I had the usual assortment of chalk, crystal, taxi cab vouchers and pizza coupons.  
I had a lot of pockets. It couldn’t all be bats blood and salted iron.

 

I pulled a piece of gum out when I finished taking stock, shoving it in my mouth and chewing stubbornly while I sized up the door in front of me. Or, at the front of the church. Cracked about two inches open, no doubt where the birds in the rafters and the bats I could smell had gotten in. But I could see dirt piled high in the entrance, as well as tree roots grasping at the wood and crumbling bits of mortar, keeping it pinned shut.

Nobody had been in this church for a while. But with such old fashioned, almost medieval looking construction, I was having a hard time guessing _how_ old. Early anglican, maybe. But the stained glass windows looked french. And the symbols on the walls? No religion I was familiar with. _Or_ cult.  
And I was familiar with quite a few.

 

Nothing for it.

 

I gathered up my will, magic causing the air to go leaden in the sudden increase in pressure. It was a familiar, comforting feeling that lifted the hair on the back of my neck. My magic felt unusual- Raw, where I might have overdrawn myself, the places where I dragged my magic through feeling almost tender where I’d had a magical workout some point previous that I vaguely remembered, although the remembering made my head throb.  
But oddly enough I didn’t feel too much of the draw I would normally feel from this level of exhaustion, magic in the air seeming thick. I must have been sitting right smack dab on top of a ley line. I didn’t look a gift horse in the mouth; my mouth turned down in concentration, and I waved my staff.

_”Forzare.”_

The door gave a crack like a gunshot, and I heard the pitter-patter rain of gravel and shards of wood outside as the door cracked in half like a cannonball had hit it.  
_Yikes._ Little bit of overkill. I immediately felt a drain in my body, sagging slightly and still feeling the pain of the concussion. But the door was open, dust still settling in the beams of sun coming in, and the wildlife stunned into shocked silence.

 

“Abra kadabra.” I chuckled, straightening up and picking my way through the rubble. 

 

This is when I realized I had a problem.

 

Nothing but forest stretched out, as far as I could see. And not the tamed, slightly over grown forest of a hospital ground not kept up, or of a botanical garden. Rough, thorny foliage that clung to the ground right up to the walls of the old ruined church I’d woken up in. An old english looking thing that had seemed much bigger from the inside than it did surrounded by some of the biggest, oldest trees I’d ever seen in my life.

And not a single road or sign in sight.

I stood in the late afternoon sunshine, the cold air picking at my clothes and nothing but the sound of the wind in the trees and a distant sound of water. There was a slight upwelling of panic.

This.... Was going to be harder than I thought.

 

#####

The woods didn’t get any thinner, much to my disgust. I had to beat a way through with my staff, managing to find some old animal trails that didn’t tangle my legs up, and following any body of water I could find. I scared deer up, or what I thought was a deer- it looked a little small, and fat. But it bounded away through the brush, causing me to fall on my ass in fright when it bursted through the undergrowth right under my nose.

For lack of anything better to do, I headed towards the setting sun, my logic being- Well, nothing really. Just that I had no where better to go, so might as well go west. Manifest destiny and all that jazz.

 

I was just getting myself untangled from a bush, swearing a blue streak and thanking god I was wearing my shit-kicking cowboy boots, rather than my sneakers, when I heard a voice. Someone saying something, loudly.

I froze, one foot raised and my heart pounding. There was a faint jingle, and a whinny, and I slowly put my foot down, mind a whirl.

So. People.

I slowed down, setting my staff lower, and ducking through the brush as stealthily as I could. Not for the first time, I found myself wishing I was better at the delicate, fiddly magic, like the kind required to make a veil. If I could even muffle _sound_ , I could creep right up, listen in without anyone the wiser. Or throw noise, make a distraction...

But instead, I had to keep a sweaty grip on my staff, trying not to let it brush against too much, and shuffle on my knees, hoping the impressive sound of the wind through the foliage above me would mask my approach. The last thing I needed was to leave my most powerful focii of magic behind when I was in a strange place, possibly with strange people. Five feet of wood was good to have in a fight, great even, when it could channel magic. But sneaking through bushes? Not so much. I reached the edge of the clearing, a sharp incline that dropped off at my feet down into dried up gulch that hadn’t been overgrown with bushes yet.

_‘Holy shit._

_‘Scratch that,’_ I thought, struggling to keep myself steady, when all I wanted to do was sit on my ass and blink in shock. It wasn’t so much the old fashioned robes and armor that were unusual. Hell, I knew plenty of people that made themselves old fashioned armor, sometimes lined with kevlar. Faeries enjoyed the roaring twenties this season, sometimes in minuscule form for the tiny folk. Peaked caps and empire skirts; dancing shoes and leather jackets.

 

But this was a little more elaborate than that.

 

There were horses lined up on the edge of the clearing, whickering gently, some of their muzzles hidden by feedbags. There was an empty cart, the wood stained and pitted with wear and tear and chains hanging from the inside of it’s cage-like interior like a macabre paddy wagon. I’d been around horses before, staying at my mentors farm in the Ozark's. Good ole Missouri. These one’s were well kept and fit, exercised. Shiny coats and mud on their legs, as well as well used equipment.

The people were wearing furs and leathers, buckles and deep hooded robes; It looked like I’d stumbled on some kind of LARPing convention. Only, taken much more seriously than usual, if the dead bodies in a circle of magic runes was anything to go by.

At first I hoped I was looking at maybe a hunting party, in the middle of cleaning their kills, but that hope was a flimsy one. I’d been to far too many crime scenes not to recognize the jutting obscenity of a limp arm, or blood slicked hair.  
At least six people, if I was counting the sickening tangle of limbs and red, sticking cloth and skin. I was hoping it was _just_ six, but my eyes kept straying away, nausea rising in my throat. 

“Vorna, the book.” Snapped one of the _live_ figures, tall with navy robes lined in black fur. His pauldrons were kept on by deep chestnut leather and dark buckles, but I was getting some mega leader vibes from the way he snapped his fingers, and didn’t turn to check that he was being obeyed. As soon as the other robe handed him the book he walked unhurriedly around the circle, observing it from different angles with the quiet studied air of a professional. Like he was out at an _art_ gallery, facing a particularly puzzling abstract.

The other three were some impatient looking servant types, one with a large tangled mane of honey colored hair, and a lithe, catlike grace as she hunkered near the horses and stroked them nervously. The other was taller, silent, wearing armor and a face that said he was growing tense. There was a scar, curving down the right side of his face, but beyond that and a beard, that was all I could make out without getting closer.

 

And since he was also sporting the biggest fucking sword I’d ever seen in my life on his back, getting closer wasn’t something I was eager to do.

The girl-robe standing just behind the leader fidgeted with her sleeves, casting warning glances to the other girl holding the horses, who was looking like she wanted to melt into the side of the horse she was caressing. The lead-robe bent down as his companion looked on, radiating nervous energy like a hound at heel. Her face was sallow, pale, with a flushing of sunburn across her ears and cheeks that told me she didn’t get out much, and a hitch to her gait that said maybe she wasn’t used to riding.

So, people with resources to get horses. I tucked the knowledge away, for all the good it might do me.

The man (I was guessing from his voice) brought the book to his face, licking a finger and delicately turning the page, and then the next, all while I waited with my breath short and quiet, keeping an eye on the dead bodies and trying to figure out what the fuck was going on. Something bad, obviously. The runes weren’t clear from where I was, but if I could just get a little closer...

“The spell was fine.” I jumped about a foot. “We’re simply missing a component. A location.” The man snapped the book shut decisively, causing the other three to start.

“But... Lord Agorian, we’ve tried everything. Without a set location, we’re simply guessing-” Came the tremulous reply.

“Quiet.” The girl snapped shut surprisingly fast. “The demon we are looking for will be where we look, because it _wills_ it. Something a spineless fool like you wouldn’t be able to comprehend.” The man said icily, barely looking at the girl, who flinched.

“Now hand me the last knife-ear. We’ll give this one more try. Perhaps the sacrifice wasn’t big enough. We’ll have to experiment, buy some more in Mintharous-”

“No, my Lord, _please_ , I’ve served you so well, don’t do this-” The thinner figure by the horses started backing away fearfully, but the armored man simply grabbed her by the arm and roughly dragged her over to the circle, her bare feet dragging through the leaves and her soft sobs almost drowned out by the sudden whinny of one of the horses.

“Shut her up.”

There was a loud _smack_ that echoed, and the crying cut off like a faucet.

 

I was up and on my feet before I knew I’d done it.

 

“Hold it.”

The man turned and raised his hand, the three assholes who were about ready to- Well, judging from the amount of blood in that circle, and the way the girl is practically in convulsions with silent sobs, it wasn’t something pretty. But the three assholes all look caught out, the lead jerk in the robe raising his hand.

I could see his face now, tanned and swarthy looking, with a silkily groomed beard and mustache. Very Vincent Price. “Who are _you_?” His hand started to ripple, the air around it wavering, and I could feel the air turn slightly cold, even from where I was sliding down the incline with right foot forward, staff held for balance and landing neatly.

I raised an eyebrow. Thermal displacement- Alright. So we were dealing with someone with at least Council level training. That’s not something they teach to apprentices, for risk of bubbling their brains out of their ears.  
I _personally_ readied some of the ambient magical energy I could feel around instead of playing my hand so obviously- Must be why they picked this spot for a magical ritual. There was a _lot_ of magic here, most of it coming from the vicinity of that circle. If I had a map of all of the ley lines directing the energies in the earth, it’s probably cross right where they’d killed all those people. Hells bells, this place was _lousy_ with powerful magic.

The sick feeling burning in my chest grew. I didn’t always make the smartest decisions when I felt like someone deserved a little bit of my own brand of justice. Whether I had the juice to back it up didn’t always matter; There were bodies soaking into the dust twelve feet away from where I was standing and someone was going to get their ass handed to them.

“Someone who doesn’t like what he sees.” I effortlessly swung my staff back and forth, slowly pacing out of the tree line and indicating the circle with a tilt of my head. Sallow-face was looking guilty, and I made note of the shuffling footsteps she was taking towards the horses. Adorable.  
I was just lucky that the guy with the sword was busy holding on to the girl, who struggled more and more as it became abundantly clear that no one was going to be slitting her throat in the next five minutes. Not if I had something to say about it. “And _that_ , looks like a whole lot of nasty magic. Now,” I placed my staff on the ground and gave him my very best, blood-crusted, muddy-from-crawling-through-bushes, and sweaty-from-climbing, _not-today_ look. “Unless you want the White Council jammed down your throat like my foot is about to be in five seconds, you’ll hand that girl over and be on your way.”

 

There was no noise for a few seconds, besides the desperate panting and struggling of the girl in grip of the knight.

 

“Kill the elf, Arys, and get the idiot mage.” Agorian said with a tight lipped smile, and the man holding the girl slit her throat with a quick jerk of his wrist.

My whole body went cold, and for a minute I thought I just imagined it. But no, he just-  
He discarded the body like trash, her hands still grabbing weakly for her throat curtaining scarlet down her front. It made the rags she was wearing look like velvet.

“ _No- “_ I moved the same time the armored guy, Arys, does, his sword swinging in an arc as he draws it and charges for me. The glint of metal jump started my my brain, eyes flicking to him and the fury clawing its way up my throat.

“ _ **Forzare!**_ ”

A ripple of energy lit out with all of the force I had behind me, fueled by disbelief and rage and all the energy I could manage to coalesce from the air, and it hit the armored guy with the force of a sixty mile an hour corolla. It was enough to t-bone a car, _at least._  
But he’s fast, and jagged left, allowing it to barely clip his shoulder. I was satisfied by the crack of bone I could hear as I stumbled back from his clumsy slash, and then kicked him back with a boot to the chest; But too late for me to stop Agorian as he lashed a hand out flashing with light. The other went for the staff strapped to his back.

Fire fountained towards me, and I flickered out my shield bracelet, the small charms on it tinkling as a blue dome of pure energy appeared, the fire sliding off of it like oil and water. The heat washed over me, and I staggered back as my eyebrows singed and the skin of my face drew tight with heat, putting an arm up.  
-Just as a whip of lightning caught me around my other arm and jerked me off balance. I crashed heavily onto the ground at the edge of the clearing, my breath whooshing out.

Damn. Forgot about the apprentice.

The whip charred the sleeve of my coat as well as the skin underneath, and I screamed as she dragged me a good five feet. She wrapped the whip around her arm like she was hauling in a boat, teeth gritted, and I slid a few more feet, the pain stealing any breath I had left. But I got my staff up in enough time to hiss out a “ _Venehdis!_ ”, and the wind that heaved itself out of the atmosphere at my direction slammed her right off of her feet, and into the nearest tree with a heavy _thunk._

I whipped my staff around and lashed out with a _”Fuego!”_ , hoarse with pain and not a small bit of exhaustion. It barely caught the edge of the warlocks cloak, but had the effect of causing him and Arys to scatter. 

They had me cornered. Had to make this one good. I stumbled to my feet. The Lord Agorian asshole was busy icing his sleeve with a cold spell from his hand, cursing and waving it like a cartoon character. _Good._

“Vorna, get the-” He stopped as he realized the girl was out cold, bleeding sluggishly from her nose, and limp as a rag doll where she’d landed under the tree. Damn. I guess I hit a little harder than I thought. _Again._

“Blast.” There was a disgusted _tch_ as Agorian drew his hood back to fix me with a gimlet stare. I stood warily like a cat in front of a dog, the top of my staff wishing with threatening smoke and embers, catching my breath. “Fine.” He gestured the knight forward where he was nursing his arm and looking ready to tear me limb from limb, his face bone pale. The little I’d seen of his sword work told me all the reasons I needed to know why he was the only guard there- He was very, _very_ good at his job. Even with a broken arm, I didn’t write him off. “Arys. Blood, please.” 

The knight scowled, and I looked between the two of them, heart hammering both from the effort of casting so fast, and from the uncertainty I could feel. This guy was casting a little differently than what I was used to, and it was keeping me on my toes- Faster. More primal. He was making me work for it, and I was only glad I’d gotten the girl, Vorna, out of the way.  
One wizard was bad enough to fight- Two was suicide. Especially with their armored buddy. Any time I focused long enough to take out one, the other two would tear me to shreds. 

__As I slowly stepped to the right, warily keeping my staff in between me and them, Arys drew a knife, using his teeth to pull off his gauntlet by the strap under the vambrace._ _

(That’s right, I knew what a vambrace was- Nerd cred, point _me._ ) 

__I braced myself, but to my surprise, he simply drew the knife down over his hand, the one on the broken arm. Agorian smiled as the blood welled up, and reached out, tilting the other man’s hand in an oddly intimate gesture, letting the blood trickle down into his open palm. Ary hardly winced, his eyes going from the crimson trickle to meet my eyes from a cross the clearing, and I could feel the grim satisfaction all the way from where I was standing._ _

___Okay._ Weird shit over, time to end this._ _

__I casted the girls body one last glance, regret lumping in my throat, and gathered up some of my remaining energy in one last strong _shove_._ _

___”Fuego!”_ I lashed out my staff, pausing to make sure it fried at least someone’s eyebrows before I turned tail and ran. If I couldn’t take them out here in the clearing, at least the tree line would give me some cover. Split them up, and draw them away from the disgusting cloying energy that was sticking to the clearing._ _

__But I felt more than heard a dark _pulse_ of energy, a sudden throbbing in the leyline that I could feel in my _teeth,_ and a splash of glowing red energy washed up to redirect the fire up and away._ _

__I yelped in shock and stumbled back as some of the flames licked back towards me, but a sudden paralysis gripped my limps, my arm jerking like someone sent a shock right to the funny bone. The sudden stiffness kept me from feeling the new burn on my right arm from where the lightning had gotten me, but on the other less bright side, I couldn’t move._ _

__And the wizard was grinning._ _

__“What’s this?” He let the blood drip from his palm, and now I could feel the heat coming from him, energy spilling over. It was a damp, wet heat that curled my hair and made my mouth feel sour. Hells bells, he was doing something with the _blood._ The sick feeling I felt in my stomach, mind flashing back to Justin DuMorne and another time where I was held helpless in someone else's grasp lit my insides on fire, my pulse fluttering in my chest and throat like it could singlehandedly shake me loose._ _

__“Scared of a little power? What circle did you stumble from, to be throwing around spells like some _simpleton._ ”_ _

__“Hey. Only my mother calls me simple.” I protested, fighting against the slowing, cloying affect on my tongue. My skin was all out in chills, and I grit my teeth as Agorian moved his hand in a rough jerk, the pain intense enough that my eyes watered through a sheen of tears and a sound like a whimper started in my throat. My staff fell from nerveless fingers as the knight made his way up to me, looking vengeful and properly cheesed off, Agorian holding me still._ _

__I struggled, but I couldn’t even focus with the blind panic sapping strength from my limbs. My arms and legs wouldn’t move, my heart beating rabbit fast while my lungs labored against something unnatural holding them in a vice grip. I could barely _breathe_ \- Although with time, maybe I could _cast-__ _

__“A lackwit then. Arys, get me a blood sample. I grow tired of holding him. Bring me the leash, and maybe we can see if he does any better than our little _Vorna._ ”_ _

__“Ser.” The man snarled, grabbing my arm and dragging it roughly down. His hand was slippery where he’d cut it, but the other was like a statue, hard and unforgiving in his armor._ _

__“Hey, easy,” I snapped, hiding my fear behind waspishness. “I bruise like a peach-”_ _

__He drew a knife, and I made a small, animal sound of alarm as he sliced my burned arm in a long, jagged arc, a good deal deeper and longer than I felt was called for._ _

__I didn’t scream, but the breath punched out of me as I felt the cold rushing chill of blood leaving the body, followed by a white hot lance of pain that made me grimace and pant shortly through my nose. Arys grinned toothily at me, pulling out a vial._ _

__

__And that’s when the war party broke from the tree line._ _

__

__#####_ _

__

__I was impressed._ _

__That was selling it short, when I saw the four people who broke from the tree line come down on the two standing bad guy’s like so much metaphorical bricks._ _

__

__One of them was clearly a wizard, throwing lightning like it was an extension of his arm, and grinning wildly the whole time.  
cArys ducked the first fork, and charged the wizard, his broken and bleeding arm tucked like a birds wing under the shelter of his swords hilt, and his scarred face twisted up in a furious scowl. The first slash of his sword glanced off of the wizards barrier; But it didn’t stop the shockwave, causing him to fall back with a curse, and a roll to avoid the second hit of the sword. And then another, as Arys refused to give him time to cast. I wondered if the sword had some kind of enchantment on it, like a Wardens blade, that cut through spell casting._ _

__His friend, a huge armored guy with a short undercut and red marking tattooed across his face, slammed into Arys, and it was like a car crash, the sound of their armor grinding together as they used elbows and a shield as well as swords. Loud, noisy, and headache inducing.  
There was a flash of blue from the melee, and Arys reeled back, clutching at his face, while Buzz-cut returned the motion, the blue still fading from his hands. Then he went forward like a dog after a rat, running the other knight through right in the gap in his armor under his arm. It was so fast and smooth, I barely had time to take note of it before my attention was caught by of the blood pooling under my boots, my head growing slightly dizzy. The other wizard with dark hair and far too many buckles on his robes had already gotten to his feet by the time I looked again, throwing his friend the knight an annoyed scowl._ _

__Arys gurgled, and grabbed for the sword embedded in his chest. But Buzz-cut simply drew it out in one fluid motion, a slight frown marring his tattooed face._ _

__The other two people in the party made quick work of Agorian; an archer who seemed to appear out of nowhere, letting two arrows in quick succession bounce off of Agorian’s sudden and sloppy shield, before throwing a jar full of _something_ , that smashed in a brief and fiery napalm explosion. She cackled delightedly, and I started to worry that maybe my rescue wasn't a rescue at all._ _

__Agorian screamed in rage and pain, and sent out a blast of red haze that the archer nimbly avoided, still laughing and sending another arrow bouncing off of the barrier. It pinged the warlocks head hard enough to jerk it to the side with a pained grunt._ _

__And the last of the party, a woman wearing heavy armor and a scowl, took the brunt of the red haze the enraged warlock cast on her shield, casting it aside harmlessly, before using it as a bludgeon to catch the warlock on the jaw._ _

__There was a _crack_ , and I could see the barrier flicker out from around the man’s navy robes and dark fur trimming in time for her to pin him to the ground with her sword. He screamed. Her weight sent it straight into the earth until it hit what was probably a bedrock of solid stone with a solid _shink_ , blood bubbling up from the wound as well as the warlocks mouth.  
But he was most _certainly_ dead._ _

__I could mostly tell by the way I fell over, the paralysis spell holding me gone the same way as it’s caster. Dead as a doornail. My arm throbbed in renewed pain where crazy had knifed me, and I staunched it best as I could with my free hand, staff rolling onto my knees._ _

__

__There was a brief moment where all I could hear is the rushing of blood in my ears, and the sound of all of my joints screaming in pain as the blood flow returned to them as god intended. Unrestricted by evil magic._ _

__“What the shite’s up with this get up then?”_ _

___I was shoved forward _(ow)_ as the archer got a good look at what I’m _assuming__ is my coat. I batted the tip of her bow away irritabley, scooting back.  
“Hey, _watch it._ " She didn't seem deterred, scowling and prodding me again, slightly more sharply. "What is up with people and manhandling me today?”  
This got me a good look at them, _also_ dressed in what looked like ren-faire clothing, I got a sinking feeling in my gut. They looked like they were dressed for Sherwood forest. 

__This… Wasn’t looking like I’d simply been sent to europe._ _

__I may or may not have been breaking one of the laws of magic, albeit un-intentionally. Whether that “unintentional” would matter when the Gray wardens found out I’d been dipping my toes in the streams of time, was yet to be seen. Either way, my throat started itching where I imagined the blade was going to go through. And… I’d seen enough beheadings to have a good idea of how it would go._ _

__“Uh. Thanks for the rescue, I guess.” I batted the archer away again as she tried to stick hands in my pockets, a short, spritely girl with blonde hair and-_ _

__I blinked. Pointy ears._ _

__“I- Uh.”_ _

__I stared some more._ _

__“What?” She seemed to grow uncomfortable the more I stared. “You okay? You ain’t broke, are you? Oh bollocks, I think he likes me.” She made a disgusted face, and to my intense and _very acute distress_ , her pointy ears wiggled._ _

___Hells bells.__ _

__“Don’t be ridiculous Sera, no one like you,” Said the wizard in a faintly stuffy tone. He was handsome, swarthy in the same sort of was the robe was swarthy. They looked like they possibly came from the same country, versus the paler companions. “He’s probably simply marveling at how dirty you are.” The wizard sniffed as he was helped up to his feet by the big muscly gent in the armor, with the air of a cat who was licking it’s fur nonchalantly after falling off of a window sill. “Relax, fair Ferelden barbarian. You’ve been saved by the Inquisition. Please save the undying loyalty for later; we have ground to cover before the sun goes down.”_ _

__“He’s not Ferelden.” A sword came to rest in front of my nose, and I went slightly crosseyed as I struggled to keep an eye on it. Oddly, I was too busy being weirded out by the _elf_ making funny faces at me from behind the solid wall of badass to be worried about this development. “And he’s a mage.”_ _

__“Wizard.” I corrected on autopilot, and flinched as the sword pricked at my throat._ _

__“ _Silence,_ mage.”_ _

__“Now, he was being harassed by my fair country men. I highly doubt that puts him on the problematic side of things.” The other wizard observed with a scowl, roaming over to Agorian, and pawing through his robes. Blood still oozed weakly from the corpse, muddying the earth black under the navy robes, and staining the wizards hands. “Although what the idiot was doing so far from his seat of power was anyone’s guess- Agorian was only interested in old history I thought.” He pulled out a note, read it, and tucked it into his belt, before continuing his looting. “Former Archons, the first magisters, blights gone by- Boring stuff really.”_ _

__“Oh, so you mean all things we’re having trouble with now?” Asked the knight drily, going to the circle and observing it’s jagged lines and curving runes. He knelt down in a creak of armor, all silver and crimson with what looked like a flaming sword on the shoulder, and a red and yellow tasset. _(Two nerd points, **Dresden.** )__ _

__I would have gone over to have a look of my own, but I was busy trying not to let my heart beat too fast and risk it impaling my pulse on the point of crazy-lady’s sword._ _

__“Hm. Yes, I suppose you’re right.” The wizard stood, scratching his chin in a thoughtful gesture as he read another piece of paper he found. “Although is Corpheus was looking for someone to summon evil from beyond the Fade, he could have done better than _Lord Agorian._ The batty bastard can hardly cast a decent static cage without resorting to _blood magic._ ” The wizard sneered._ _

__“Listen, I don’t know what’s going on-” I started, trying to come up with some viable reason I’d started the day(?) with Carlos and the other Wardens, trying to light Mavra on fire, and now I was in some medieval fantasy wet dream._ _

__“Then hold your tongue.”_ _

__“-But can any of you tell me what year it is?_ _

__Crazy-Lady raised an eyebrow at me. “A curious question.”_ _

__“But probably harmless Cassandra, _do_ calm yourself. The year is Nine Forty-one dragon my good man, and almost forty two.”_ _

__I gaped at him. “What the good fuck does that mean." The wizard looked affronted. "I asked what _year_ it is.”_ _

__“Watch your _tone_. He answered your question _mage,_ now you will answer ours.” I tried not to gulp visibly. “What circle do you hail from? How did you know this man? Are you an enemy of the Inquisition? I would know what you’re doing in the Hinterlands, so close to the Inquisitions seat of power.” She narrowed her eyes at me, and I noticed her taking in my staff, my boot, and arching a graceful eyebrow at my gun._ _

__“Hell’s bells, will you people make some _sense._ I don’t understand what you’re asking!” I finished the last part in a rush, as the woman lost patience and looked ready to brace herself and do something drastic. Like take my head off. I was familiar with the gleam in the eye when someone wanted to behead you- A very particular twinkle. “What circle are you talking about? Like- a ritual circle? There’s one over there!” I pointed desperately to the blood circle with the bodies._ _

__The wizard gave me an odd look, and came closer, observing me a little more than he had previously. “No. A _circle._ A school of magic? Or are you apostate?”_ _

__“I don’t see how it’s any business of yours, but I was taught by a teacher. Same as... You?” I asked, on shaky ground here, and the woman holding the sword gave a noise of disgust._ _

__“My good man, I learned from a _teachers, some of the finest in Tevinter. What I am asking you is what _school._ Force? Spirit? Elemental? Orlais, or perhaps Imperium? Maker help you, you weren’t at Calenhad were you?”__ _

___“He don’t _understand you_ you tit. look at him!” The elf waved her arms in my general direction, and I tried my best to look harmless. With blood oozing steadily out of my arm and mud seeping into my jeans. She grew slightly more solemn, and put a finger up to her head to tap her temple theatrically. “I think he’s one of them simple-whats-its."_ _ _

___ _

___“That’s it.”_ _ _

The sword had wavered in the few brief seconds of questioning, and I took full advantage of it.

___I moved suddenly, and quickly, knowing that even if the armored woman was distracted for a split second, she was fully prepared with a sword over me. Before the blade could come down on my suddenly twisting torso, I bashed it with my staff, knocking it out of the way the same moment the armored woman came down with her weight. It nicked my ribs, but I used the weight of her coming down to send my boot crunching into her nose, rolling clear as she gave a scream of rage._ _ _

___The moment I was clear I swung again, correctly guessing that the elf would be on me like white on rice, and clocked her good in the jaw. She fell back, swearing a blue streak, and I took the opportunity to get clear. One last spin, and I started moving, avoiding the jagged arc of lightning that landed where I’d been, and stumbling to the side, where the wizard couldn’t get a clear line of sight around the two women._ _ _

___“ _Forzare!_ ”_ _ _

___“ _Kaffas!-”_ The other man rolled backwards as the blast caught him square in the stomach, knocking him back like someone had headbutted him. It was weak, but so was I, after fighting off evil warlocks, and also apparently falling through a portal to crazy land, where the names were made up and the rules didn’t matter.  
It was enough to distract him from casting at least, and that was all the time I needed to turn and make a break for it._ _ _

___ _

___What I didn’t count on, was the last guy. Who I thought was a big dumb sword jock. Books, covers, and hindsight._ _ _

___ _

___I almost made it to the horses, who were rearing and jerking on their tethers at the noise and explosions probably tested their already tenuous patience, when I was stopped cold. There was a feeling like someone hit me with the biggest metaphorical pillow in existence, and I was knocked off my feet, my magic stripping away from me like I’d been sprayed with a fire hydrant._ _ _

___I fell flat on my back, wheezing, and Buzz-cut stepped up casual as could be, leaning on his sword and giving me a shit-eating grin. The trees made a green gold canopy around his head, and I scowled up at him with my eyes squinted against the lighting._ _ _

___“I guess wherever you’re from, they don’t have Templar’s, huh?” _Nobody liked a show off._ I thought of telling him, and even scowled in preparation._ _ _

___Whatever he did, he did it again, and I lost consciousness._ _ _


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow this chapter was really fighting me. :')
> 
> I don't have a regular update schedule, I just work on all my various projects until something clicks together, and post what I have! So if you guys are expecting a regular update, sorry to disappoint. I work a lot full time, and this is a wind down thing.
> 
> Spoilers!
> 
> I'm also working loose and fast with Dresden canon, because despite reading all of the books multiple times, I get them all mixed up and forget what happens when hahaha. So he's already fought necromancers and rode a dinosaur and thus cemented the bonds of brotherhood between him and Carlos. He know's Thomas is his brother, but he's not yet a Warden. Ok? Okay.
> 
> I'm ignoring Lasciel for now.

######

When I woke up the next time, it was to considerably less pain then I’d been in before.

 

I sat up groggily, a hand going to my head to feel at the lump I’d woken up with in the church, giving a wince. It was considerably smaller, and the blood had been cleaned from my hair and face. Which was concerning in a way I didn’t really want to touch on yet. It was strangely kind of them, considering they’d _kidnapped_ me.

 

I looked around carefully.

 

No one was in the room with me, thank god. I don’t think I could have handled whatever new awfulness this fairytale land had to throw at me. If they didn’t have trolls I would eat my staff.  
The room was all hard rough stone, with little furniture. A narrow cot that I was lying on, a rickety chair in the corner, and a small table. That was it. I guess I was lucky there wasn’t a waterboarding table and a car battery.  
An arrow slit up in the wall was the only source of light, cold air whipping in. The bluish cast to it told me there was probably snow on the other side, if the cold didn’t.

I spent a few long minutes sitting up in the bed and staring up at the ceiling- At the wall, at the un-lit lamp sitting on the table, at the window, where the chill wind was coming in. Someone had left a pile of furs on the bed, soft sides turned down, so I wasn’t _freezing_. Chicago in winter wasn’t anything to sniff at, and I was almost comfortable, even in what felt like an alpine climate.

While I was staring at a dead spider in the corner of the room, trying to think of some way to shut my eyes and open them safe at home in my own bed, with Mouse drooling on my hand and Mister kneading my chest, there was a noise outside. A shifting of armor, and a brief murmur of voices. I swung my legs over the side of the cot, shoving the musty smelling furs off and getting ready to possibly fight off a prison beating.

I really didn’t like not knowing what was happening.

Snow blew in, and it was a dark figure who pushed the door open, a glint of coppery red under the hood and a pink mouth that seemed to waver between a smooth serene smile, and a flat edge of neutrality. Her voice when she spoke was surprising lyrical, accent something almost like french- But not. Just like everything else I'd been running into. “Excellent. You’re awake.” She had the same familiar insignia I’d seen on the scary-lady’s armor across her chest. 

“Uh. Yeah.”

“Harry Dresden.” The woman shut the door behind her, the heavy clatter of locks against stone and masonry telling me that this wasn’t going to be some plywood and plaster office job. My normal form of exit, via any wall weak enough for me to blast my way through, was going to be a problem.  
I gave her a narrow eyed glare and got up off the bed, shoulders tense. I wasn’t wobbly in the way of someone who had a concussion, thankfully, but I was stiff like someone who had been kept asleep for awhile. Whether it was exhaustion from straining myself, or whatever that guy had done to me, I wasn’t sure. They could have used ay number of spells on me, although when I hesitantly probed the recesses of my brain, it didn't _seem_ to have the psychic tenderness that came with a mental mauling. Still, that was the thing with warlocks. It was always hard to tell.

“That’s my name.” She gave a small nod, remaining standing, and simply hovering in front of the door. Maybe a foot from it, hands clasped behind her back. She somehow made it look school-mistressy. “I’m assuming you got it from my wallet?” I ventured when she didn't volunteer any further information. _Please tell me you got it from my wallet._

She nodded again, quirking an eyebrow. “A very accurate image, with some very detailed information was in your pocket, yes. What it didn’t tell me, was that you are a user of magic, Serrah Dresden.” When I didn’t leap up and venomously deny it, she continued. “A mage. One who appeared in the midst of a blood mage cult we have been tracking for quite a while.“  
She simply stood in front of the door, inspecting me. I tried not to look warlock-y.  
“The only reason you have been treated so kindly by far is because our Herald does not know what to make of you.” I was working very hard not to make eye contact, and as a result my eyes were focussed on her small, faint smirk. Her accent was odd to parse, and I had the feeling I was missing on some nuances. Although maybe that was just the fact that she was great at verbal gymnastics- Hard to tell when I was still fuzzy with sleep and bewildered.

“That’s… Nice of him.” I answered hesitantly. I idly wondered whether my rod and staff and gun were with my wallet. I still had my boots though, which was _something._ “He’s the big dog in charge?”

The woman stopped talking, and I could hear from the silence that it was an incredulous one. Okay. Something I’m missing.

“Okay, you know what, I’m going to stop you right there and nip this one in the bud-“ She didn’t say anything, but I felt her interest sharpen. “I’m from Chicago. Have you ever heard of it?”

“No.” The word was drawn out slowly, but I could feel the curiosity buzzing off of her like a palpable thing. “I have been many places both in this world and out, and I have never heard of _’Chicago.’_ ”

“Good, good, we’re making progress- Where was the place I woke up? It was big, stone church, suns on it-“

“Perhaps… The abandoned Temple of Nevarra. Royalty built it outside of Haven’s crossroads long ago, but sickness killed most of the parishioners off. It was supposed to be an embassy-“

“Christ, ok.” I cut her off, and rubbed my face, the stubble catching on my palm. “Shit.” I pinched my arm heavily, and winced at the sting, slapping the skin, and then slapping my cheeks to wake myself up. The woman watched in silent amusement. I caught sight of my duster thrown over the chair, and it made me realize the long cut in my arm was gone. I frowned, pushing my sleeve up, to see nothing but a long white line. Weird, but I was going to worry about that later. There was a lot of things I was trying to worry about later. “Ok. I’m awake. This is happening.”

“I take it this kind of thing doesn’t happen to you often, Ser Dresden?”

“ _No it does not._ ” I got to my feet and started pacing, ignoring the way the woman tensed at my sudden motion. I didn't see any weapons, but something about the small shift in her stance told me even if she _didn't_ have any number of knives spirited away on her person, she probably wouldn't need them to take care of me. But I was a little too hysterical at the moment to worry about being murdered. “I’m from _Chicago_ , on _Earth,_ in the _Milky Way galaxy,_ where I have an apartment, and a library, and my goddamn _dog-_ ”

“My name is Leliana, Serrah Dresden. Perhaps we can help each other.” She interrupted smoothly, cutting my rant short. She paced around the circle I was tracing, her steps thoughtful. The click of the low heels on her boots were like punctuations. “We have interest in travel between the worlds- And you seem to be more well versed than most. A mage of experience?”

“We’re called wizards where I come from.” I mentioned, growing slightly wary, and cagily avoiding the question although remnants of hysteria made my pulse jump and sweat bead under the small of my back.

“No matter. You control the Fade, and the power it comes from. That makes you what we call a mage, although of what degree of power and talent is yet to be seen.” She smiled slow, sharp. "I am sure we can help each other." 

I _had_ noticed something weird happening with my magic. Some sort of _oomph_ that hadn’t been there before. It made it hard to gauge how hard I was hitting, when it felt like the magical equivalent of my arms growing two feet longer. A very fast, very metaphysical puberty. Even now, muffled as I was in this room they’d put me in, I could feel…. _Something,_ right there behind where I could see.

It was weird.

I was in the dark, and this lady knew it, judging from the effortless way she inspected her nails while I stood and clenched my hands.

“Alright.” I finally ground out She barely glanced up. “Let’s talk.”

 

##############

 

I didn’t explain _everything._

I told her who I was and what kind of world I came from, which earned me disbelieving looks of various degrees. I explained I was part of a council of mages who worked in secret, that most people didn’t know about magic in our world. For some reason this earned a more disbelieving look than me talking about cars.

“Hey, people don’t believe what the don’t want to believe.” I told her with a shrug, untroubled. She simply sighed, licking her quill delicately, and dipped it again in the small old fashioned well she had on her writing board.

I kept getting a sense of vertigo as I sat and explained things to her. (What laws the council kept, my job keeping the peace in Chicago, and the last things I remembered before coming here.)  
Little things threw me, like the visible hand stitching on the clothes, or the clearly forged nails in the table, were visible reminders that I was in a time period (and world) different from my own. The quill and ink. The single lamp she had brought in to see by, glowing with a faint magical energy that I immediately grew fascinated by.

It was what she called a ‘fade-light’, and she let me poke at it while she wrote down everything. Mostly about the council, and the Never Never, which I theorized was my entry point into what she called the “Fade”. Dimensional travel had been touched on by some of the more senior wizards, but besides five different explosions and the occasionally mysterious disappearing researcher, we hadn’t made much ground besides the usual Nevernever travel. Any entry points to other realms were so deep, that no one even wanted to _think_ of getting stuck there. Not without some sort of god or fae lord on your side.

I grew tightlipped about the details when she pressed, seeming to grow slightly more interested in the White Council, but I figured if these were bad people, letting them know I’m the magical equivalent of an FBI agent might tip any risk bodily harm in my favor- Better a live hostage than a maimed and dead one. Name and serial number _only._

Although since she let me dismantle the fadelight with my pocketknife she kindly returned, I was slowly relaxing. They were just as surprised I was here as I was. We were just going to have to make the best of it.

 

Finally, as the light outside grew dimmer, she set her quill down, and stretched. I blinked warily at her as she got to her feet and knocked elaborately on the door. “We will stop here for today.”

 

“But- Okay, I figured this was going to be a give and take relationship.” I protested, a little irritated. All I knew was I was in a place called ‘Thedas’, the Inquisition was a sort of governmental church power (yikes), and Buzz-cut was the Inquisitor. (It _did_ make me feel better about him kicking my ass. Although I was eager to find out how he stripped magic like that. So I could _keep it from ever happening again.)_

“And we will. But for now I have to talk to some people and make arrangements. I like you, Ser Dresden, and there are no few people who would rather have you thrown into a tower until either you disappear, or are forgotten.” I stiffened, and she smiled her mona lisa smile. “I think you have some use to the Inquisition, and would be happy to help you- to what extent we can- return home.”  
I nodded slowly, some of the impending panic attack that had been looming over the horizon all day fading. “I assure you, it is the only and best help you will find here in our world. I will send someone in the morning to show you around, but for your own safety, I would have you remain here for the time being. I’ll have someone bring you a meal.”

I worked it over soundlessly for a moment, before sighing. “Alright. Fine.” Hells bells, I’d never been so helpless before. I could walk out the door and down the street right now, and run into- I don’t know, a troll. Or more of those magic stripping knights. Or any number of evil baddies.

 

As a wizard, our number one weapon was preparedness. Even with all the magic at our disposal, we were very fragile compared to most things you ran into that went bump in the night. There was a reason wizards were associated with wisdom- Because the only ones to live long were the ones that were smart, and who prepared for everything. On our home turf, we were near unstoppable. Wards, focii, and prepared spells were the best kind. While I was actually abnormally good at on-the-fly magic casting compared to most wizards my age, it clearly brought me to maybe batting average here.  
Being cast adrift like this was terrifying. 

 

Leliana hesitated at the door, and in the gap I could see a couple of figures in armor that raised my hackles up. No doubt they were the source of the draining effect on my magic I could feel, thinking of Buzz-cut. “Ser Dresden, I might offer you some advice-“ I frowned at the serious tone in her voice. “When you sleep tonight, be careful.”

And with that _insane_ piece of advice, she shut the door behind her and I heard the heavy clunk of a key turning in a lock.

 

I was left in the dim room with a dismantled magic lamp, my boots, and the worlds itchiest straw mattress.

I couldn’t wait to go home. Nobody was _ever_ going to believe this.

 

#####

 

Despite the sound of armor outside, the occasional creaking as the guards shifted position, or coughed, I feel asleep, still exhausted from whatever it was that brought me here. I was slowly puzzling it out, remembering flashes. where I’d been going, as well as who I’d been with, although the details were snapshot.

Like-

 

Me, Carlos, and some other younger Wardens; the closest on hand when word came in of Mavra’s ritual. An older woman with a scar over one eye from Dublin, and a man who was younger than her by maybe fifty years or so. Wizards live for quite a while, so this wasn’t saying much. She could’ve easily been a hundred I think, although she only seemed maybe a rugged forty years old. Her name was.. Leandra? Lorraine?

I don’t think I ever got the other guys name, but he had a very distinctive bush of a mustache, and a hatred of necromancers that rivaled Warden Morgan’s. We’d been out at one of her holes, I vaguely recalled. She had any number of them scattered all over the place, abandoned apartment buildings with the windows boarded up, or old subway stations where her corpselike brethren and Renfields lurked like vermin. Someone had come across correspondence between her and a dealer, and the list of ingredients she was buying rang more bells than a tiger in the airport. Another, previous memory- I got tilted to it by surprise, by the act of remembering. It started like most shit shows did; Me being woken at four in the morning by an irritated sounding phone call. Sometimes I wished I took my phone out of the wall before I went to bed.

“Dresden- Hey, you awake?” Carlos had the faintest burr of an accent, all the more noticeable when he was stressed out, or irritated. Or both.

I grunted affirmative, while being very firmly _not_ awake; And also hosting company, apparently, as I noticed a light silver glow near my head, in the crook of my shoulder. There was a faerie in the bed. Not like _that._ For some reason Toot had taken to having parties at my place, and I didn’t have the heart or inclination to tell him no. Not when he looked up at me with the little tuft of lavender hair, his ruler sized wings fluttering hopefully.  
The little pixie and his friends kept mice, roaches, and other little varmints out, as well as being a great at home alarm system. Not to mention he’d helped save my bacon more than once, both in the Nevernever and in Chicago. So a little bit of pizza every now and then, and a place to crash was the least I could do. If he wanted to have the tiniest most adorable kegger in the world while I was out working, fine with me.

As long as he cleaned up the glitter.

However I drew the line at the five tiny, multicolored snoring shapes I had to gently shake off of my sheets and sleeves while I tried to wrestle the covers off, and also keep the phone glued to my ear. They all ranged from the size of a small action figure, Toot, to a tiny little pinprick of light that I almost crushed with an elbow, until I rolled my eyes and picked up little Elidee and set her safely up in my hair so I could go about putting on pants.

“- and I need someone who knows what they’re doing so these _idiotas_ don’t get _murdered-_ Dresden." Silent breathing for a moment, and I continued making the mindless noises of assent into the phone as I fumbled with my slippers. "Are you even listening to me.”

I grunted again and shuffled to the kitchen, banging my head on a cupboard someone had left open. (Me.) Mouse lifted his head from his doggy mat and wagged a tail at my loud swearing, just a dark shape on his bed until I flicked a finger and lit a few candles. I rubbed my head, grimacing, and dumped some kibble in his bowl; as well as in Mister’s, whenever he returned from his nightly ramblings.

“Get it together Dresden, we need you in Edinburgh. Plan for necromancy and a slight chance of _getting your ass kicked if you’re not here in a few hours._ ” There was some irritated grumbling on the other line that I tune out with long practice. “You _owe_ me Dresden.”

“I owed you five favors ago- This is getting ridiculous.” I finally commented, standing in my kitchen and watching the coffee percolate with my eyes half shut. I scratched my leg with the opposite foot, jaw cracking slightly in a yawn.  
Something was niggling at the back of my head, something I felt like I was forgetting. But I ignored it with the ease of long practice. Probably something I’d been dreaming about. Which, for once, wasn’t terrifying and dark and nameless. Always nice.

Carlos said something else, but the feeling grew stronger in the back of my head the harder I tried to ignore it, and I missed iwhat he said Instead I looked at the coffee percolator, frowning. The sound of Mouse eating was loud in the silent apartment, lacking the electronics and humming that most other places had at night. The water heater clanked occasionally, but it hadn’t worked right in years, and I ignored it to turn in place, frowning, phone pressed to my ear.

I stared at my bookshelf, my eyes narrowed and some tiny alarm bells going off in my head. I was silent for a while, staring at it, trying to kick my brain into gear.

 

“Dresden? Everything okay?”

 

“Probably not.” I said slowly, clicking the phone and hanging up. Sure enough, as soon as I did there was a knock on the door.

 

This wasn’t real.

 

I felt a chill creep up my spine, shaking my limbs and waking me up as effectively as a bucket of ice water. There was no more sound of dog snuffles in the kitchen, no more warm glow from my bed, or tingle of energy in my scalp where Elidee slept.

It was silent, except for the knock on the door. The sudden yawning of the shadows in the corners of the room seemed much more threatening all of a sudden, cold.

I reached and got my staff from the corner of the room by my bed and went to the door, heart pounding somewhere in my throat.

_”Dresden? Are you in there?”_ The knocking continued, and I gulped, a cold sweat starting down the back of my nightshirt. That sounded like Murph. Tiny, adorable Sergeant Murphy- my only line of sanity sometimes in these past ridiculous few years. _”Dresden, let me in. It’s freezing out here.”_

The only problem was, this wasn’t real, and I could hear another voice overlaying hers like one of those tibetan throat singers. Now that I was aware of it, I was pretty sure the same had been true of Carlos’ voice, although I hadn't noticed at the time. Someone wearing my friends voices like a buffalo-bill skin suit; And doing a shitty job of it too. The effect was _terrifying._ Two voices speaking simultaneously, one the strident and clear voice of Sergeant Murphy, sounding slightly annoyed. The other was a deep rumble that seemed to be drawling half a beat behind her words, hissing on the consonants and seeming unconcerned whether I heard it or not.

_”Dresden, let me in. I have something for you.”_

“If you don’t leave by the count of three, this door is coming off of it’s hinges and you’re coming with it.” I warned through the fear tightening my throat, lifting my staff. The scent of woodsmoke filled my nose as the top heated up.

“One.”

_“Dresden, you’re being ridiculous.”_ The knocking grew more pronounced, and I noticed the wood around the frame swelling slightly with the force behind the blows, increasing slowly with every knock until it was inhuman. It was suddenly deafening. _”Let me in. I have a case for you.”_

“Two.” I could feel my hand shaking slightly, and ignored it, keeping an eye on the shadows in the room, the strange misty quality of everything becoming slowly more apparent as time went on.

Now that I was looking closer, I hadn’t noticed previously that one of my bookshelves was tilted impossibly off, like a surrealist painting, the borders of it clipping through the wall. My lamp was _upside down._ There were fuzzy lights that didn’t cast any shadows hanging like dots in my vision, that were probably what I had previously thought the faeries were. I felt dirty. Like someone had made a cardboard cutout of my apartment and I’d fallen for it.

_**”Open the door.”** _

_“Three.”_ I raised my staff and focused.

“Don’t do that.”

 

I whirled on the spot, and the spell I’d been gathering shot off with the forced of a shotgun, my elbow jerking back and the shitty table I had jammed in the kitchenette going up in spectacular flames. I looked round in panic, pulse jumping in my throat.

_”Dark water pressing down on my nose, fear choking-_ Don’t be scared.” Came a slow, thoughtful voice, breathless, as if the words were being forced out from behind a long trailing silence. ”This isn’t real. It’s just a dream.”

I looked up at the kid sitting on my ceiling, picking at his shirt sleeves and seeming unconcerned with the cheerful fire blazing in the corner. The flames weren’t acting like normal flames anyway, no heat coming off of them, and the motion of the flames seeming to jitter in and out of focus like a bad camera shot.

“Who the fuck are you? What’s going on?” I glared narrowly at him, my staff still sizzling with force.

“I’m Cole. Solas told me to watch you.” He looked up (down?) from under his large, impressive hat, and I caught a very brief glimpse of pale eyes, blue like a snowed in window pane, before I fixed my gaze very firmly on his nose. _“He’s like a child Cole, doesn’t know what he’s doing. I fear a demon may be able to take advantage of his confusion, and the last thing we need is a repeat of Calenhad-“_ His voice took on a faint sing-song of mimicry, carefully enunciated and crisp. Like if a book could talk. He snapped it off at the sound of more pounding on the door, flinching and looking briefly fidgety.

“I’m very good at watching.”

“Ok.” I drew out, feeling myself start to relax from mind-numbing terror, back down to a ratcheted and wary tension. There was still a scratching at the door, and every time I looked up at the basement window, I could see what I thought had been car lights going by.

But now that I was looking closer, I realized the light was too green, and the shapes too long and many jointed to be cars.

“They only hear your fear, like music- _Soft, sweet, like blood spilling over the tongue-_ I can help, if you say.” The kid offered helpfully, looking down at his knees and twisting his fingers in each other. “I can make you forget. Mages can’t forget, when they dream, not like other people. I can make you forget.”

It was one of the most helpful and terrifying things someone has said to me all week. And I fought evil vampires and necromancers.

“Necromancers aren’t evil.” Cole said with a slow frown, and I raised my eyebrows in surprise. “Dorian’s a necromancer- He made a dead man dance once, but Cooper made him stop. He said it wasn’t respectful.”

“Dorian’s the other wizard?”

“Yes.” Cole said, smiling briefly. “He’s been helping me- He let’s me ask questions, and doesn’t laugh. It’s hard, because people don’t always ask what they feel, and I don’t know how to do that.” The kid wandered across the ceiling, unfolding himself like a particularly washed out scarecrow to inspect a rug that was somehow stuck up above by the hanging lamp. Apparently now that I was noticing things, the architecture was very off in this dream.

“That’s, uh. Very nice of him.” I said, mind racing as I watched him frown and inspect the lightbulb, tapping on it with a dirty fingernail. I was getting some major maybe-not-human vibes here, but since so far he was the only help I’d seen in this…. Nightmare, I’d keep it civil. No lighting anyone on fire. Probably.

_’You listen to compassion, but what changes but the fact that he’s in there,’_ The voice hissed out from the door, sounding less and less like Murphy, and more and more like something with a mouthful of what I _hoped_ were large teeth, and not mandibles. _’And we’re out here? Open the door little mage, let us_ help _you.’_

“They’re just fear.” Cole said, while I turned to watch the door, backing to put the kitchen counter and the entry in my full view. “They can’t hurt you unless you let them.”

_’And what would you know of fear, you obscenity. How to inflict it? How many did you soothe with your blade in the tower, all because you were **afraid.’**_

 

For the first time I saw the kid look strongly emotive, his face paling and lips drawing back as if struck, flinching. “I- They _wanted_ me to- They called me there.”

 _’And are we not called? Do we not deserve **succor?** Open the door little spirit, and we won’t devour you when we finish with the wizard.’_ There was a clicking sound, repeated, like someone rolling dice. Or something clicking it’s teeth very fast. _’Once here,’_ There’s a scraping on the basement window, and I jump, whirling around to glare at it. ‘ _And once in the mortal realm, while we move the mage like a puppet and tear your body apart, starting with that tongue that tells itself lies so sweetly.’_

There’s the sibilant sound of chuckling, and all of sudden the voice drops about five pitches from where it was mimicking Murphy, to a deep voice that sounded like someone had kicked an autotuner somewhere around Idris Elba. It seemed to rattle the windows, and the shadows tilting crazily across the glass joined in on the noise, howling and cackling like a pack of jackals.

 

“I would like to wake up now.” I told Cole very tensely, holding my staff in a white knuckled grip.

 

I felt helpless without any better idea of what to do than blast things- And I was almost positive the only thing keeping the monsters at bay was my nebulous idea of a threshold that carried over to my dream apartment. Blasting it to smithereens would probably do nothing but open the floodgate, if the amount of scratching and whispering was accurate.

Ideas had power here, I was starting to gather. And I firmly believed I was safe in my apartment with the door shut. It had withheld itself to murderous fae, necromancer zombie hordes, various vampire courts, and a very irritated Marcone after I stood him up for the worlds shadiest investigation into one of his properties for pixie infestation. 

 

“I’m sorry I can’t make them go away- Solas wasn’t here to help. Solas would know what to do.” The kid said fretfully, lightly stepping down off of the ceiling, and landing light as a cat next to me. He turned gracefully in the air like an astronaut, hardly seeming to think about the motion. Up close I could see he looked a little thin, cheeks slightly gaunt and causing his nose to look gawky and oversized. The giant hat wasn’t helping.

“I don’t mind. You’re doing great-“ I flinched at the sound of a howling scream and chattering whine outside, and tried not to look like I was flinching. I probably failed, if the sad wet look I got from Spooky was anything to go by. “- _But how about we both wake up now and talk about it later._ ”

The kid nodded, and reached out with long pale fingers to take my hand. I tried hard not to yank my hand back from the cool, almost clammy touch, and felt a rush of dizziness-

 

#####

 

I woke up with a start, a familiar feeling of falling causing my heart to skip a beat. It felt like I’d just landed in bed, and I spent a moment just trying to slow my heart beat, looking up at my depressing cell ceiling.

 

At least, I hoped it was my cell ceiling.

 

“This is real. You can touch things here.” A soft, informative voice told me from across the room, and I sat up slowly, turning to catch a glimpse of Cole sitting crosslegged on the floor in the corner of the room by the door, the chair sitting uselessly within arms reach of him.

Okay. So, he wasn’t a figment of my imagination. Good to know.

“Thanks.” I said flatly, blinking the sleep from my eyes. The skin underneath, as well as across the back of my neck, felt hot and tender from exhaustion. But I wasn’t in any hurry to hit snooze and roll back over. Not after _that_ hellish night scape.

_“Maker, I hope he didn’t kill Cole or some such nonsense, I’m starting to grow fond of the lad- If there’s an abomination in that room we’re going to feel very stupid in choice of guard-_ Dorian’s on his way up.” The kid changes his voice mid sentence, and boy, did I find _that_ comforting. “They can help you. Solas is with him.” To my relief, he didn’t seem big on eye contact. That’s the last thing I wanted, was to be drawn into a soul gaze when I wasn’t sure what the laws of magic were here. Especially with someone as… Not entirely human as I suspected Cole was.

My rings seemed to work, so whatever laws affected thaumaturgy were still in effect. Thermodynamics seemed the same, as did- Ugh. _Necromancy._ But where in _my_ city, people made their own dreams, it seemed the Nevernever equivalent made dimensional bubbles inhabited by thought creatures of pure energy, where people’s consciousness went while they slept. Or something.

I don’t know, it was all very very weird so far. Whether that was worse or better was yet to be seen- All I knew was I didn’t want to see into the soul of _anyone_ who regularly saw _that_ bullshit on a nightly basis.

There was the sound of voices outside, and I got to my feet, noting that although it was dark, I’d gotten in enough sleep for it to be early morning. There was the sound of a bird chirping over the wind outside the arrow slit, and the faint jingle and clash of what sounded like weapons. There was no accompanied sound of screams and death gurgles, so I assumed it was training practice or something. Damn, they started early. And I wasn’t sure, but one of the magic suppressing knights outside seemed to be a woman, so shifts had changed.

“Cole? How’s our friend.” Came the faintly amused voice of the wizard I’d met before, Dorian. He opened the door with the click and clack of locks, giving it faintly bemused look as if wondering why anybody bothered.

Once again, I was struck with the impression of a cat, stepping fastidiously around the Templar guards who seemed indecisive as to whether to stop him or not.

He was wearing different clothes then I’d first seen him in, mostly white, with a half cloak that went over one shoulder almost to the elbows, and strappy boots that looked like they’d seen quite a lot of wear and tear in the recent months. I took in a few handsomely simple rings and bangles, elegantly done hair and trimmed nails, and white teeth. Not quite the norm from what I’d seen so far in this ‘Thedas’, but I was used to noticing small details. Someone who enjoyed privileges, and dedicated some time to their appearance. “Ah. Awake I see.”

“I had to wake him- There were too many.” Cole said, and seemed worried. He stood from the floor, and I noticed that he was taller than I thought, standing next to the other man. Although he stayed hunched and nervous, barely taking up any room even with that ridiculous hat. It made me uncomfortably aware of how thin he was, how jumpy. Did nobody give this kid a sandwich? Did they _have_ sandwiches? “His friend told me that they like the taste. He’s different, and it makes them curious, like tiny birds at a still pond.”

“Well, a fine job anyway, Cole. Why don’t you go find Varric and ask him some disturbing questions about nugs.” Dorian said pleasantly, resting a hand on a thin shoulder. Cole nodded agreeably, giving a small hesitant smile, and disappeared without further ado. I raised an eyebrow, turning to around in place to check and see where he went. No where, apparently. He just disappeared.

“Uh. Can everyone here do that?”

“Unfortunately no, or I would have made many a more dignified exit from parties.” Dorian strolled the room, leaving the door open behind him where I could hear a brief conversation with someone and the Templars outside. A soft voice, at odds with the clipped tones I’d become familiar with. “Our Cole is a special case, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. He’s… Probably harmless. but where are my manners? My name is Dorian Pavus, and I’m here on our mutual friends orders- Red hair, cloak and hood, incredibly invasive questions?”

I blinked at him. “Yes?”

“Excellent. Me and my taciturn friend are here to see if you’re a danger to yourself or others. So far it’s promising, since you made it through the night unscathed. Impressive, for your first time. Most apprentices have screaming nightmares for the first few months after demons start targeting them.”

“Jesus christ.” I rubbed a hand against my face. “Does that happen every night?”

“For mages? Yes. Most people in- I guess, _our_ world, don’t remember it when they dream. But as mages, we have a much more direct line to the ‘Fade’, as we call the realm you must have seen.” He sort of trailed it off like a question as his friend finally joined us, pulling the door shut behind him. There wasn’t a click of locks, to my small relief, although the guards didn’t move from the door. I could practically feel their distrustful glares from through the thick wood.

 

I looked briefly disturbed, which seemed to be answer enough.

 

“And how does it work in your world? When you dream.” The newcomer asked, and I took him in with the same attention to detail as I had his friend.

Bald, and an elf, like the blonde whirlwind of pain and obnoxiousness I’d run into earlier. But he was more solid than she was, albeit shorter and built on smaller lines than humans. Sharper ears and teeth, more of a slope to his features.

He was dressed on practically the opposite end of the spectrum as his dazzling companion. Ragged clothes that, while clean, looked worn and mended. Robes with draping sleeves, and bare feet covered in simple leather breeches that looked more like something a dancer might wear, than something that might protect your feet from the snow outside. Although maybe elves didn’t need shoes. It was sure looking that way.

 

“… We remember most of our dreams, but it’s generally theorized that humans and some other creatures capable of dreaming or containing a soul are capable of creating pocket dimensions while they sleep, in order to help the spiritual and immaterial part of their mind as well as the neurological process information.” I recited dutifully, remembering what I’d learned briefly from Justin, and more in depth from Ebenezer. “Now, for _my_ question. Elves are real?” I pointed at the guy, giving them both a slightly desperate look.

“Are they not where you come from? How ridiculous.” Dorian said with a curious gleam in his eye. “Yes, they’re real. Arguably, they’re more real than humans, having been here first. But don’t get Solas started or we’ll be here all day.”

 

“Yes, elves are real. As are demons and spirits, which are a threat as you sleep as I’m sure you’ve noticed. I was busy elsewhere, or I would have stayed to observe your dreams and offer some assistance,” He seemed a little regretful. “Something of a specialty of mine.” Why was I not liking that even more than I didn’t like Spooky.

“When you came through the Fade, don’t suppose any kind of anchor was involved? Green, glowing?” My brain gave an involuntary shiver, and I frowned. I had a vague memory of green, but when I tried to bring it up it simply shied away. I shook my head slowly instead, and Dorian made a noise through his teeth in disappointment.

“And what were you doing? Just before? Whatever it is you do for fun there? I assume it’s something barbaric.”

Solas rolled his eyes and interrupted before I had enough time to be offended. “Enough questions, Dorian. If you would like to have something to eat, than you may come with me and Messere Pavus. If not, you're more than welcome to stay here and keep the Templars company.”

“Not that it hasn’t been great, me and all my new friends,” I said, following Dorian to the door. “But I think they’ll be fine without me. Right guys?”

The Templars gave me various degrees of cold looks, and I slapped one on the shoulder in a friendly way as we filed by. She glared, but I was too optimistic about food at the end of this walk to worry about it.

Whatever I was going to face today, I might as well face it with a full belly.

#####

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you guys couldn't tell, Cole is my favorite character. I brought him EVERYWHERE in game lol.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've changed points of view so much writing so many different things I'm giving myself whiplash.
> 
> Comments and critiques are appreciated! And I hope everyone wished Harry Dresden a very happy birthday yesterday; What better way to celebrate then a new chapter?

######

 

My first glimpse of the huge rambling castle grounds really set my head to spinning, even though I tried not to show it.

 

There were people everywhere, making me uncomfortably aware of my ruined clothes and haggard appearance. The return of my magic I felt slowly trickling back after sitting under the heavy weight of… _Whatever_ those Templars do to snuff out magic, went far to putting a spring in my step though. Which I’m sure my companions noticed judging from the side eye they gave me.

There were stairs, winding and sharp cornered, wrapping around the walls and turrets as well as the natural, high rocky landscape that seemed to be mostly windswept rock, and plants sheltered from the screeching wind by the stone. It was more vertically built than outwards, although that was impressive as well, as we went out across a battlement and I caught my first sight of how far the castle sprawled across the mountaintop. You just didn’t get construction like that anymore.

“This place looks ancient.” I mentioned as we made our way through the halls, me drawing my coat best as I could against the chill that cut right through the gaping crumbles in the wall that came from age and neglect. “How long has it been here?”

“Long enough for even the echoes of centuries to be nothing but a distant sound.” Solas replied serenely, and I met Dorian’s side-eyed look uncertainly as we followed. “Skyhold has been empty for many centuries- It’s only after the tragedy that we faced at Haven that I thought to guide the Inquisitor and his people here. It was home to many a word changing movement before. And now it will be again.”

“Uh huh.” I nodded in a very student like manner, not really listening. “And what about-“

 

“Makers breath, how about you ask a question, and _we_ ask a question. Does that sound fair?” Interrupted Dorian, and I glared defensively.

 

“Fine.” We went down some stairs, and finally onto sweet, sweet ground. They’d had me high up- Probably used to storing mages in places where elemental magic was less… Catastrophic. 

“What do you want to know?”

Dorian barely had a beat to wait before he asked. “What schools of magic are you proficient in?”

“Fire.” I said first, always my go to weapon. “If you give me my blasting rod back, I’ll show you.”

“That little wand? I was wondering what such a tiny staff was for.” Dorian snorted dismissively, and I narrowed my eyes, about eighty percent certain that his nose had been up in the air the whole way down the stairs.

“Size isn’t everything.” I quipped, waggling my eyebrows at him. To my astonishment his darker skin flushed a little bit, before turning away like an affronted cat.

“Anything else? Perhaps your world has a form of Fade-magic that made it easier for you to survive whatever brought you here.” Solas guided us across the grounds, and I took in everyone’s uniforms as we passed through the main thoroughfare of traffic.

The hallways were loaded with crossing servants, arms heavy with linens and crockery. What looked like soldiers were shuffling through as well, or scouts hauling bags of parchment and… Rocks? For some reason? Olive green and brown cloaks and hoods, all neutrals. What I assumed was their religious insignia was emblazoned across the front of all the armor, glaring out at me like the eyes of whatever creepy god made giant shit-kicking knights that ate magic for breakfast.

 

“Just the normal stuff.” I answered, following some of the soldiers with my whole head, neck turning to look over my shoulder as we walked. I was gawking like a tourist, and didn’t feel the slightest bit ashamed about it. They returned the looks a little dubiously, as if wondering who the giant freak with half a jacket was, and why he was trying to ogle their backs as they walked away. “Energetic thaumaturgy. Finding things. I can make a pretty good shield if it comes to it; and basic force magic.”

“A force mage. I shouldn’t be surprised.” Boy. I was getting the impression me and Dorian had got off on a very bad foot. Not that I really cared- He was a little stuffy. “You do seem like the bull-headed type.”

I glared, but the other wizard simply pretended not to notice, humming tunelessly and almost shutting a door on my nose.

 

“Here we are.” We came down the ramparts and to what looked like the main hall. There were two large siege doors cracked open to the elements, fires and braziers doing enough of a job keeping the inside warm even with the cold morning air whipping in.

I followed Solas hesitantly, but it wasn’t crowded this time of day. There were a few servants bustling around, setting up large pots of some kind of hot grain, and baskets of berries along with an assortment of creams and small jars of crystals and honey. The smells of hot bread and pastries filled the air over the large table set to the side of the hall, and I realized they had a kind of buffet thing going. Fancy.

 

We went in, and the warmth was a welcome relief from the bitter cold outside. I noticed I wasn’t the only one as Dorian took deep inhale of the woodsmoke and warm body smell, a faint hint of spices where someone was making a delicious smelling drink at one of the braziers with a hot poker and what smelled like apples.

“Ah. Yes, hello Varric.” Dorian answered some wave of greeting. The unusually short man at the brazier left his poker sizzling in the coals, and came over carrying a mug that steamed out cinnamon and nutmeg.

“Sparkler. Solas. And our latest wayward apostate.” He grinned at me in a friendly way, and I immediately found myself charmed. Both at the slightly sardonic roll of his eyes that conveyed _’Sorry you have to deal with these ridiculous people.’_ ; And also the small nudge he gave Dorian with his elbow as the wizard sat down, that said, _’But these are **my** ridiculous people, so I’m going to be nice to you.’_

“I’m not sure I like that word, 'apostate'.” I said with a frown, sitting hesitantly with my legs out from the table. I was feeling jumpy, and the idea of having my back to the hall unnerved me. “What’s that mean?”

Varric gave me a slightly disbelieving look, but at Dorian’s airy wave and nod, shrugged. “You know, a mage who isn’t in a Circle?”

“And circles are those towers?” I confirmed, remembering something Leliana told me.

“That’s the one.”

“Huh. Weird.”

“And how are mages raised in your world then?” Dorian asks, interestedly for once. “I mean, you have schools, yes?”

“Uh. Not that I know of. Our council assigns young wizards to older ones as apprentices, and we learn our control from them.” I explained, as I accept a bowl from Solas, who’d been doctoring up breakfast while we sat. It was some kind of breakfast grain with milk and some kind of berry I didn’t recognize. I sniffed it cautiously, but it smelled pretty sweet and tasted ok, so I started wolfing it down, praying I wasn’t allergic to alien berries or something.

“Interesting, if impractical. What happens when there aren’t enough older mages?”

“That doesn’t generally happen- Uh. There’s maybe a hundred wizards of council talent right now, who are a danger to themselves or others if their magic gets out of control. Otherwise it’s mostly hedgemages and small time practitioners. Small time thaumaturgists, ritualists.” I wiped some porridge off my chin, and slurped down another spoonful while Solas took a seat next to me and started in at a much more sedate pace. “And I’ve heard of some of the more senior wizards doubling up for apprentices.”

“And do you have an apprentice?” Solas looked at me askance from the corner of his eye.

“Nope. Not yet.” Small blessings.

 

There was a small bit of silence while Dorian picked apart an ornate looking buttery pastry shaped like a pinwheel, and Solas and I ate our porridge. Him, neatly and fastidiously, and me, like a ravenous animal. I hadn’t eaten since I was in another dimension, and only when I had food in front of me did I realize how hungry I was. Surprisingly, the tart little berries in the porridge sort of melted, making the whole thing taste very smoothie like. I wondered if they had anything like coffee here. Then it’d be perfect.

“Well. Not that this all isn’t _fascinating_ ,” Varric interrupted, taking a long draught of his mug. This close, I noticed wryly that the smell of the cider had a bit of a bite to it. “But I have a betting pool to start. So if you gentlemen will excuse me.”

“Betting pool? What on?” I slurped up the last of my bowl, and started looking around hungrily for more.

“How fast Vivienne makes you cry.” Varric hopped off the bench, a practiced movement that was made to look the least ridiculous as possible in a dining room that seemed to be made for bigger people. There were a few more people awake and about, and that seemed to be what prompted his sudden departure. “Didn’t anyone tell you?”

I felt a small sinking sensation in my gut, and looked over to see Dorian looking highly amused. “Who’s Vivienne? And why am I going to cry?”

“The only resident First Enchanter we have on hand, and so one of the few people who can judge your level of skill. The Inquisitor has some leads on the cult that seemed to have summoned you, but he doesn’t take untrained novices out into the field with him. The man is a walking target, and we need the best.”

 

I set my bowl down with an annoyed thunk. “My word isn’t good enough?”

 

“My dear man, your word is good for practically nothing.” He cut me off before I can start to argue. “This isn’t a smear on your character, which I’m sure is perfectly honorable. You’re simply a stranger; We don’t even know what kind of _world_ you come from.” Dorian finally picked apart the pastry to his satisfaction, pushed it away without eating a single bit of it, and then selected an apple from a pewter bowl on the table to start crunching into. “Personally, I think you’re harmless. But our Vivienne is ever the cautious type; And I must admit, she’s very good at her job.”

He must have noticed my pinched expression, because he laughed. “Relax. She won’t hurt you.” Solas coughed delicately and pointedly. “Probably.” He amended.

I simply sighed, and refilled my bowl, this time with some plum looking things. Might as well eat up.

 

################

 

“I get my stuff back?”

There was about five of the Templars lined against the training field border, all pretending not to be watching. But I could feel their eyes on the back of my neck among the crowd of simple bystanders, people who were gawking at the strange new wizard their leader had brought back from the wilderness.

Or something. I still wasn’t very clear what this Cooper Trevelyan’s position was with this organization- A kind of Pope? An Alexander the Great? Whatever he was, he had a position of honor in an upper window of the tavern that overlooked the training field, leaning nonchalantly in some casual clothes that made him look like any other soldier on his off day; His hair buzzed short on the sides, and flopping over across his forehead when it wasn’t tied back. I could see the short elf girl trying to shoulder him out of the way, mouth moving ceaselessly, and whatever she said caused him to look over and laugh.

I turned away to focus. It was starting to bring some uncomfortable memories of my trial back. Proving I wasn’t a warlock seemed to be a reoccurring theme in my life. The fact that there was a necromancer I’d _seen_ use horror spells standing off to the side and joking with Varric didn’t soothe my indignation.

 

“Yes. You get your… Things back.” Cassandra handed me the leather parcel holding my things, an eyebrow raised in a light warning. “Please don’t make us regret it.”

“Got it. Roger.” I eagerly grabbed it, juggling my staff for a minute before tucking it into the crook of my arm, and retrieving my gun, holster, some spell ingredients and chalk, my blasting rod, and weirdly enough my depleted gum. They left my rings but took the gum. Okay.

I shoved a piece in my mouth, since I hadn't brushed my teeth in about two days and was starting to seriously consider the ways in which my dentist was going to hate me. Cassandra looked at me like I’d just put a rock in my mouth, and I simply chewed serenely, looking around and observing the ring.

It had rough wooden fences around it, mainly chopped logs on posts like a paddock. It was a border more then anything, chipped and scarred with clumsy bladework and sweat. The ground was dirt and sawdust, and I could see where someone had already busted their nose once that day.

Maybe two dozen people had gathered around, five of which were templars with suspicious glances that seemed to be talking in low tones, and the rest of them obviously workers taking a break and watching the latest entertainment.

 

“So. Who am I supposed to fight now?”

 

“A simple friendly sparring match my dear. Nothing so uncouth as a _fight._ ” A delicately high and strident voice said, and I turned to take in the woman who was silently gliding her way through the small crowd. She didn’t even look at the Templars, and I took note that the one’s that were anywhere near her respectfully stepped back, eyes tilted slightly down. Good to know.

“And if I’m being honest, it won’t be much of one at that.”

As she got closer I felt an uncomfortable tingle of magic. It was like a shroud, gathered around her. Most people wouldn’t have noticed, but I felt it as an uncomfortable prickle. Something about this world supercharged my magic, and it was like the magical equivalent of all my hair standing up. And also they were whiskers.

“Some strong words lady. I _am_ a Council wizard you know, for all that might mean to you.”

“Mm. Yes. From what Dorian tells me,” The wizard in question tipped his hand from the rails where he was perched like a colorful tropical bird. “You have some weight. But I’m here to assess your _control._ I don’t know how things work where you studied, but here, magic is _dangerous._ The lightest slip in control can result in abominations that will rip your spine out of your bleeding corpse, and then proceed to floss with it.”

Her eyes were bright and clear, flinty. Her robes were white, elegant looking and spiky, resulting in a very intimidating appearance. She looked like a wicked witch from some film involving lots of horses and holiday balls. As someone who appreciated a good coat twirl, I could respect that. 

Her staff was very straight and smooth, polished from some kind of white wood, with a silver cage on the top. I was impressed to see the small glowing orb in the silver net, a blatant display of magic that took no small amount of skill and output to keep lit.

 

“Alright. Fair enough.” I took my coat off, snorting slightly at the ruined sleeve, and tossing it on the rail close to Varric. The air was brisk again, and goosebumps started to raise under my long sleeve flannel shirt. It was still bloodstained, and cut along one sleeve where they’d gotten at my arm to heal it. All that remained on the skin was a long white line, which I ignored in favor of rolling my sleeves up. “So. Rules?”

 

Vivienne nodded, apparently just as eager to get to business as I was. “Dorian my dear, if you please.” The warlock in question looked up from his conversation with Varric, and I swear I thought I saw the glint of metal exchange hands. He smiled wide and as fake as a cat.

“Certainly.” He held his hands apart slightly and concentrated, and I saw a small waver of energy start in between his palms, slowly spreading out, engulfing his hands, and then lower arms, and then the surrounding people who looked only the littlest bit uncomfortable. It kept spreading, until there was a sickly green looking dome around the ring, containing me and Vivienne.

I inspected it curiously. It looked very similar to Carlos Ramirez’ favorite trick.

I stooped to pick a pebble off of the ground, and ignoring my opponents impatient foot tapping and Dorian’s amused smile, I tossed it through. Sure enough, it simply disintegrated into a fine powder that simply blew away in the wind as soon as it crossed the barrier.

“Entropy? Isn’t that a little dangerous for a sparring match?”

Dorian seemed pleased that I noticed, and smug that I was impressed. “It simply filters primal force and magic- You should get nothing more than a nasty surprise if you touch it.”

“Eyes forward. Back straight.” Snapped Vivienne, and to my combined horror and surprise, I was halfway to straightening like a bootcamp recruit before I caught myself. “We will begin with a barrier. On our Seeker’s mark.”

 

I hefted my staff and watched out of the corner of my eye until the woman in question dropped her hand, braced for whatever spell the Enchanter was going to throw at me. Judging from the delighted way that Dorian was perched with his hand in his chin, and Varric was counting out gold, it was going to be impressive.

 

A cold permeated the ring, and I could see small cracks of frost appear on the ground, right before she tilted her staff in an economical motion, and a wave of cold air and shards of ice came at me like a miniature blizzard. I couldn’t even feel the draw from the atmosphere, and I was impressed. Not a lot of moisture in the air for ice in the mountains. So she must have drawn the actual materials to make snow and ice from the never-never equivalent they had here- the Fade. It seemed to be incorporated into everyone’s magic here.

I snapped my shield up effortlessly while I thought this, my bracelet going warm from some thermal displacement, which I adjusted quickly, before it melted my wrist.

“Aren’t you a little old for foci?” Vivienne observed, throwing another wave of ice at me, and pacing the ring. I mirrored her, batting the cold air up and harmlessly into the barrier. I don’t know how her boots remained immaculately white in a place that seemed to be fifty percent dirt and thirty percent horse manure, but damn if her robes didn’t glow.

“You’re never too old for training wheels.” I almost tripped at the force of the next blast, and my shield glowed a bright blue flash that stung the eyes.

“Try without then, and we’ll see.” Vivienne paused, setting her staff to the side, and gave me a moment to glare and fumble the catch on my bracelet one handed, and shove it in my pocket.  
She nodded in satisfaction.

 

“Much better, dear. From the top.”

 

The next blast was a little hesitant, probing, and I raised my barrier a little slower. It was sloppy, wobbly, and I felt the drain immediately, although it still did the job of knocking aside the small blast of basic force magic with a sparking crackle of energy that I didn’t get with my normally well-balanced bracelet. There was a murmur of noise in the crowd at the light and color, which I summarily ignored.

The barrier was slightly duller, curved a little more irregularly. I had a bigger reservoir of energy to pull from though, the ambient magic in the air as thick as treacle compared to the thin fare I was used to in Chicago.

“Something tells me you’re no mage of delicacy.” I huffed a laugh. “Maker only knows what might happen if you attempted a healing. Strike that off of the list of tests my dear; I wouldn’t want him to turn anybody inside out.” She sighed, and I grit my teeth in irritation. Even though it was very, very true.

Dorian didn’t make any motion to strike anything off of any list, but rather started flirting with a soldier standing nearby. The soldier in question was wearing red and armor and looking distinctly uncomfortable and flushed. How Dorian could manage that and maintain that barrier, I had no idea. But I got the small feeling he was showing off.

“Attention please, we’re going to try fire magic. From what I understand it’s a specialty of yours.” I jerked forward, and she gave a small thin smile of approval, before giving another brief twirl of her staff. There was a ripple in the air, and suddenly I was being pelted with ice about the size of softballs.

 

I yelped, and managed to bark out _’Fuego,’_ rolling to avoid the hissing wash of steam that gusted where I’d been standing. There was an “Oooooh” from the crowd, and some asshole started applauding lightly. Hells bells, they were acting like they were at an airshow.

 

It continued that way for a while, her throwing spells and putting me through my paces like a show horse, and me gritting my teeth and bearing it. She was talented, that was clear. She wove power as easily as any Merlin I’d ever seen, although I did have the distinct impression that she wasn’t as much of a powerhouse as I was. Good to have _something._

“Enough.” I came to a stop, panting and mussed and irritable, while she simply looked slightly out of breath. “Your control is… Good enough.” She allowed, and I rolled my eyes. “I will speak with the Inquisitor about making sure there is a Templar near your door at all times, but I doubt you should need much supervision. Perhaps I can show you some tricks to get rid of your paltry little baubles; They’re entirely unnecessary my dear.”

“Thanks. But no thanks; I’ve been doing this for a while, I know what I’m doing.” I said, struggling not to snap. Dorian let the barrier fall, and I took note of the relieved slump of his shoulders, and the steadying hand that the commanding looking soldier put up to catch him with. Not as easy as he made it look, I guess.

“As you wish.” She stepped out of the ring, one of the soldier standing around leaping to his feet so he could raise the bit of wood for her to pass through. “We have a lead that shall take the Inquisitor towards the north in two weeks time; Try not to kill everyone in that time. I should be very grateful.”

I resisted the urge to stick my tongue out at her retreating back.

But it was close.

 

#####


	4. Chapter 4

“I’m not wearing that.” I told Varric flatly.

“What? What’s wrong with it?” He asked, peering down at the coat in his hand thoughtfully.

“It looks like a goat exploded.”

“I know. Isn’t it great?”

I gave him a dirty look, and he sighed, putting the monstrosity back on the shelves. “Alright, what _do_ you want princess?”

“Some spelled leather would be nice. Or leather I _can_ spell.” It would take a while, but I’m sure I could modify my bulletproof enchantment to count for- Crap, I don’t know. Teeth? Fire? _Zombies?_ I ran a finger over the dusty shelving and grimaced. “Hells bells. When’s the last time anyone came down here?”

“I’m not sure. I found it myself when I was looking for Cole- Damn kid gets into everything. How about this?” He held up a short black coat that was better, but I didn’t like the length. Which is to say, the length didn’t like _me_ ; all six foot four of me.

I shook my head, and Varric snorted. “Alright. Tell you what- Let’s go ask Dorian.”

I must have made a face, because he outright laughed. “Oh come on. He’s not that bad.”

“He’s a _necromancer._ ”

The dwarf raised an eyebrow as he led me out the door, locking behind us. All the knobs and handles in this place were heavy iron and pewter affairs, with deep ominous sounding locks and latches. Varric tucked the key and it’s many companions on the ring into his shirt, and ushered me up towards the stairs. “And?”

“And it’s against the Laws of Magic.” I added on frowning, and allowing myself to be pushed somewhere around my hip. “Well. _My_ laws anyway. And magic used on a person is grounds to having your head cut off.”

“A little strict, don’t you think?”

I made a short noise of agreement, already feeling a little sick to my stomach at having to explain this huge mess to the Council. Dimensional traveling wasn’t technically against the laws of magic, but I’m sure it’s only because they never thought it would happen. As always, they were probably going to be happy to make an exception for me.

“Dorian’s a great guy, I’m sure you guys will get along. You both like blowing stuff up?” He offered, trailing off as we went back through the main hall. The food had all been put away, and while there was still tureens of thick stew and ewers of water, it seemed the communal meal times had been done for the day. “Although he’s not very good with the whole-“ He wiggled his fingers, indicating god only knew what. “-Fire.”

Ah.

“No. Just dead things?”

“And lightning.”

Alright. That was actually… Pretty bad ass.

I was also glad we were finally getting me a coat. As we went out one of the side doors and out into a harden courtyard, the wind picked right through my tattered coat like it wasn’t even there. With the enchantments I’d woven on it gone, it was barely even useable as a coat, let alone as magical armor.

It would have been more useful if I hadn’t had it spelled for bullets, and instead maybe made it resistant to _electrical whips and blood magic._

The courtyard was apparently in the middle of being overhauled, small saplings with newly budding leaves nestled in pouches of burlap and leaning against a far wall, the soil all throughout the grounds turned up. There was a strong smell of fertilizer, as well as the familiar sharp smell of rocky mountain soil, full of minerals and barely and rotting vegetation at all. One of the nuns was crouched down over a flower bed, her work robes pushed up to her elbows and wrist deep in thick black soil, pulling out roots and stones as I watched and tossing them with _clunks_ into a waiting cart.

“A garden?”

“Herbs are important, for an army without enough healers to go around.” Varric explained, as he brought me through the busy garden, only drawing a few stares. They must have had a lot of new guests around lately, because after the first few days the interested stares I got halved. People got used to strangeness around here quickly- I guess they’d have to, with what looked like a giant green hole in the sky.

We headed up to a second floor landing, wrapping around and overlooking the garden, the sound of some kind of church service floating up from under our feet as Varric brought me to a door. He knocked, and without waiting for a reply, pushed his way in.

 

“Dorian! I have a favor to ask before we head out, my vertically challenged friend here need’s a coat- Now, don’t make that face, I know you have plenty of spares-“

 

I ducked a little to get under the drapes that were set around the entrance, gauzy scarves and knit shawls that looked as if they’d finished their uses as clothes, and were now being retired as interior decorating. There was incense burning, and far from being one of the stark, bare looking rooms with cracked mortar and chilly flagstones, this room was covered in fabric and cushions, many of them looking second hand or repaired. There’s wasn’t a bed, but a flat pallet that looked almost eastern style, with a curtain around it and a low table with a much chipped and cared for tea set on it set close to the sleeping area.

It looked like one of those kinds that folded up in a back pack, and I remembered Dorian looked a little different from the rest of the Inquisition. Maybe because he was from another country? It certainly explained his dress sense. Which, I was comfortable enough in my sexuality to admit, looked _great_. He looked like the male equivalent of a femme fatale.

I was briefly tempted to ask if they had vampires here, but I figured it was something we could talk about later.

I really hope they didn’t.

“I am not _mangling_ one of my beautiful Minrathous coats, just so that _goliath_ can cover whatever that plaid weave monstrosity is.”

“Hey.” I protested, a little indignantly. But at least now I knew they had _flannel_ here, If Dorian felt that strongly about it. He was sitting at the low table, a pair of reading glasses perched low on his nose, and mustache twitching indignantly as Varric took a seat across from him, sighing at the exertion of folding his short legs under the table. There was papers strewn everywhere, ink staining the table in new and interesting patterns over the old, and I came to the conclusion that Dorian was a fashionable, fussy, _nerd,_ under all the glam and chic. I should have known.

Just like a certain brother of mine. Although, I noted with a pang of homesickness, he wasn’t nearly as slobby. His room was cluttered, but artfully so, sort of similar to all my homespun rugs and old comfortable furniture. A nester, just like me.

 

Varric leaned in, helping himself politely to a cup of the tea on the table, that was being warmed on it’s stand by what looked like a small purple flame floating maybe two inches away from a rune scribbled on the table.

“Listen, nothing else fits him and he says he needs real leather. He can always return it-“

“A half a foot bigger all around no doubt.” Dorian scoffed, pushing his glasses up, and scribbling a few notations. My latin was shabby, but I was about eighty percent sure what he was translating was a love letter. A very very old love letter, by the looks of it. “I’m very busy Varric. Go bother Trevelyan to go chasing after some rams like a giant, misbehaved _dog_ , I know how he loves that-“

 

I was leaning against the wall by the door, silent and appreciative of the effort Varric was going though just to help a stranger. He seemed like the sort; Judging by the way Cole followed him around like a strange, gangly duckling, and the way that elf Sera came running up to show him interesting bits of gossip or trash she’d found, I wasn’t the first problem child he’d taken an interest in. I wasn’t sure whether I should be flattered, or alarmed.

 

Negotiations were interrupted when the door to my right opened without a knock, and the biggest, meanest looking troll I’ve ever seen in my life ducked through, fanged teeth grinning.

 

In my defense of what happened next, I’d been very on edge in the past two days. When you’re in a strange place, with no idea what the dangers are, where apparently demons can possess your body while you sleep and dragons were a very real pest control problem, I’ve found it best to have a shoot first and ask questions later.

So I didn’t stop to think, _’Hm. How did a monster get so far into this military compound? And why don’t Varric and Dorian seem to be jumping for weapons?_

What I _did_ think, was _’Holy shit, I’m going to be eaten. And then he’s going to use Varric as a toothpick.’_

I drew my gun, fired two rounds into the shoulder, and knocked him back with a force spell that sent the giant back through the door with an _oof,_ horns clipping the jam and damaging the wood, and over the edge of the balcony outside. There were a few screams from the priests down below.

I followed, spinning my chamber, and loading some more rounds, placing one foot over the edge of the balcony with my heart hammering to look at the body down below.

He was looking up at me from a flower bush ten feet below, looking stunned and not little irritated.

_”Ow?”_

I raised the gun again, but before I could do anything, Varric hit my legs and knocked me forward into the rail, collarbone clipping painfully against the stone, and he wrenched the gun away.

I was confused, only for as long as it took for Dorian to wave a hand from his furious stance in the doorway, sending me rocketing into a wall where I took _another_ rough blow. A staticky cage of purple electricity sprang to life, hemming me in and raising the hair all along my arms and neck where it didn’t prickle like an uncomfortable sun burn.

“What the _fuck_ was that?” I gasped out, struggling briefly, before realizing I was going to lose more than a little singed hair if I kept up, and subsided. My adrenaline was still pumping.

“ _That_ was the Iron Bull who you just almost _killed._ _Podex perfectus es._ ” He swore, and I flinched guiltily. “Varric, is he alright?”

“Fine!” Came a weak reply, and I heard concerned muttering from the priests down below, which only added a little bit of weight to the guilty feeling in my chest.

“ _Es stultior asino._ ”

“Yeah well, _te futueo et caballum tuum_ to you too and all that.” I snapped, struggling anew against the cage as Varric nimbly hopped the rail, and made it down below to check on the apparent Iron Bull. The latin drew a raised eyebrow from Dorian; as if a dog had stood on it’s hind legs and asked him about the stock market. “We don’t even have _elves_ in my world, what the fuck makes you think we have _whatever the fuck he is?_ ”

 

“Well, maybe if you weren’t such a fast drawing _blennum_ , I could have explained!” Dorian snapped back, and the static started to crackle dangerously. “I swear to the Maker, if you’ve crippled him even _more_ -“

 

Great. I craned my neck, trying to get a view over the rail, nerves jangling. I just suplexed the cripple everyone apparently liked. _’I’m glad that at least I still remember how to make friends.’_

 

“Alright, alright _I’m sorry._ ” Dorian continued to fume at me, going to the railing and watching whatever was going on below that I couldn’t see below. His glasses were dangling by a chain around his neck, hair slightly disheveled, and bare foot in the cold hall. “Let me out so I can go see if he’s alright at least?” I asked, feeling little bad.

Dorian didn’t say anything, simply crossed his arms.

“Let him out Dorian, it’s my fault.” Came a low, rumbly voice, and Bull came up the stairs, leaning heavily against the wall with a small grin still playing around his face. “I should have knocked.”

 

“You most certainly should _not_ have-“ Dorian flared up, at the same time I said “Listen, I’m _so_ sorry about shooting you-“

 

“Haha, it’s fine. Only one got me anyway.” He fingered a dent in his shoulder pauldron, a little ruefully. He seemed more upset about that than the _bullet hole_ currently leaking dark looking blood over his chest, and staining his pants. Dorian made an angry noise, and stomped off barefoot into his room, the cage fizzling out, and allowing me to fall on my ass against the wall.

“Harry, meet the Iron Bull. The Iron Bull, meet Harry.” Varric said weakly, from where he was under Bull’s arm. I took me a minute, but I realized he was trying to hold the larger man up. I was pretty sure Bull was humoring him. “I’m sure you guys are going to get along _great._ ”

 

I gulped, and looked up. There was. A lot of up.

 

The man was _huge._ About seven feet tall, with horns that almost added a whole other foot, and as wide as two line backers stuck together. The fact that he was entirely gray, with black sclera, and nails trimmed into neat claws didn’t help matters. Frankly, I wasn’t sorry at all I’d shot first and asked questions later.

We were in the middle of a vampiric _war_. Asking questions got people killed.

But he seemed like a nice guy, and squirmed a bit. “Listen, sorry again about that. We don’t have- Uh. Whatever you are, where I come from.”

“I’m a qunari.” He informed me, prodding at his wound with a wince. “The species is called kossith, but nobody really calls us that anymore.”

“Huh. Weird.”

“No, not weird. I’ll tell you what IS weird,” Varric handed my gun over, holding it by the handle, and looking briefly puzzled by the hot barrel, and everything else. I stopped the brief flurry of anxiousness at the sight of him handling my gun so carelessly, and very, _very,_ carefully switched the safety on, and tucked it back in my holster. “Is that whatever it is you shot me with. _That_ wasn’t magic.”

I looked at my six shooter, and slowly tucked it out of sight, putting on my game face. “Yes. It was.”

Bull raised an eyebrow at me, just as Dorian came back out of his room, still swearing in his weird mangled latin, and bearing a small green bottle that glowed slightly.

“Here you are, you great big lummox.” He affectionately manhandled Bull back into his room, giving me a dirty look as I sheepishly followed, offering a hand to lift the large qunari since I seemed to be the least likely to get squashed if Bull took a tumble.

 

Which he immediately did over the door jam, bad leg in the brace buckling with a small grunt.

 

“Shit.” I caught him, and I swear to god I felt something pop in me knees. Christ. He had to be at least three hundred pounds. _Not_ including the horns and armor.

“Easy Princess, you’ve got delicate goods there.” Varric slapped Bull companionably on the thigh, the closest spot he could easily reach, as I eased him down on one of the piles of cushions on the floor.

I gave Varric an indignant look over one of Bull’s massive arms. “Wait, is ‘Princess’ _me_?”

Varric shrugged.

“I like it.” Dorian said, a little viciously, as he fed Bull a potion despite the man’s protests that he was _fine_ , it just knocked the wind out of him. And wrenched his leg a little. And he probably might have hurt rib.

“Dorian.” Varric warned lightly, returning to his tea, which was still slightly warm. I hovered, wishing uselessly I’d specialized in at least a little bit of healing. Dorian seemed to be in the same boat I was in, hands fluttering over Bull as he finished the potion and seemed to feel much better for it. If _I_ was lousy with healing, I’d hate to imagine how bad the necromancer was at it.

“Well. He almost _killed our friend._ ” Dorian pointed out, throwing me a glare.

“He’s in weird place where a ‘monster’ jumped out at him- Correct me if I’m wrong, but I get the impression you’ve been ambushed a few times in your line of work?” Varric questioned, sipping a dark red liquid, and giving Dorian an appreciative nod. The aroma was thick, and dark. Almost coffee-like in bitterness.

 

Magical car bombs. The Billy goats Gruff kicking the shit out of me in a bank, a greenhouse, and an old warehouse respectively. Vampires torching my office building. Necromancers outside the book shop. A naiad in my shower, on one memorable occasion, that brought Thomas in to laugh at my girly shrieks as I shoved it back down the bath drain.

 

“Uh. Yeah. A lot.”

“There you have it. Bull’s a big guy, he can handle some unpleasant surprises, right Bull?”

“It’s what they pay me for.” He agreed good naturedly, and I grudgingly grinned back at him. If you ignored the horns and gray skin, he was really kind of piratical. Rakish, almost. “And besides. Not every day I get shown the door so fast by a handsome mage.” His good eye blinked slowly, and it took me a few flabbergasted moments to realize that he’d been _winking._

 

Uh.

 

“Um. I uh-“ I stammered briefly, flushing. Instead of a look of dawning comprehension and no-homo back pedaling, Bull’s grin spread if anything wider, like a cat that had spotted a particularly spunky mouse. I turned to Varric, scratching the back of my neck and coughing. In a _manly_ fashion. A very straight, very manly- Which wasn’t to say the iron Bull _wasn’t_ manly. He’s probably the most stacked, manly guy I’d ever seen But I- That is, me _personally-_

 

“ _Kaffas_ , Bull, leave the man alone you don’t know where he’s been.” Dorian snapped, and Bull’s chuckle was cut off with a yelp as Dorian prodded something painfully and vengefully.

“Ignore him.” Varric said serenely, patting the floor and scooting so I could sit next to him, as the dwarf deftly poured me a cup of tea as formally as if it was his own room. Dorian moved around after he finished with Bull, and I heard some bells tinkling and buckles clinking as he looked through a wardrobe, swearing darkly. And talking to himself. “He likes to test the waters. Just don’t encourage him and he’s as harmless as a nug.”

“Yeah. A _war _nug.” Bull grumbled with immense satisfaction, and I decided it was better to not ask what the hell a bug was, and just drink my tea.__

__

__A coat came flying from behind me and landed on my head. I almost spilled the tea, and coughed as my mouth scalded._ _

__

__“If you ruin that.” Dorian said sweetly, while I turned to glare at him and Varric gently took the cup out of my hands so I didn’t dump it on him. “I’m going to strangle you with it.”_ _

__

__#####_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #####
> 
>  
> 
> I HAVE FOCUS PROBLEMS I HAVE A LOT OF STUFF IN THE WORKS.
> 
> Podex perfectus es - you complete asshole
> 
> Es stultior asino - you stupid ass
> 
> te futueo et caballum tuum- PRETTY SURE this means fuck you and the horse you rode in on
> 
> blennum - doofus or similar. Okay, I'm sorry, they're just swearing at each other in latin when everyone present can already understand the naughty words.

**Author's Note:**

> ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
> 
>  
> 
> I would like to point out that while looking up reference I found out that the first Dresden Files book was originally titled _'Semiautomagic'_ , which should tell you both why I was cry laughing, and everything you need to know about the Dresden Files series.
> 
> I haven't been writing for very long because I've been mortally _shy_ , but I've been learning a lot since I started. So if you notice any mistakes, or feel like you can offer any advice, you're more than welcome to message me at my writing/dragon age tumblr (clandestineclairvoyant), or leave a comment.


End file.
